


the space between your molar and your jaw

by waterleveldropping



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A Statement Made Them Do It, Canon Typical Spiral Nonsense, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Light Angst, M/M, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, bad idea central, on both sides lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterleveldropping/pseuds/waterleveldropping
Summary: “You need to get out of this statement,” Martin stated, firmly. All his weight was on Jon, and Martin couldn't help but huff at the sight-- and then mentally slapped himself. Focus. “It isn’t good for me or for you,” he said, half to himself.“I’m your doctor,” Jon said. “How could I possibly make you feel worse?”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 26
Kudos: 168





	the space between your molar and your jaw

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has some really fucky consent issues. its basically mutual dubcon, is how i can best describe it. dont read if you arent okay with that. it does end on a lighter note, though.
> 
> other than that, all i can say is i really have no excuse for this. enjoy!

“I’ve lost Jon.”

“You _what?_ ”

Martin had been sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, patiently passing the time as he usually did when Jon needed a statement, content in the fact that Basira was supervising him, despite Martin being unable to think of a worse use of his time. 

“What do you mean you lost him?”

Basira sighed. “I dunno! I was listening to him make his creepy statement and then I looked up and he was gone. I think he went through a door.”

“Like, like a _normal_ door, or—“

“ _Any_ of these doors look normal to you?” Basira snapped, hands scrubbing her face frustratedly.

Martin inhaled as deep as he could, shut his eyes, and breathed out. “Alright. We have to find him before something else does,” he said, tightening the short ponytail his hair was pulled into. “Not that I don’t think he can’t handle himself, I _know_ he can, I’ve seen it firsthand—“ 

“Martin.” Basira said sternly. 

“Right. What was the last thing you remember?” 

“I told you, he was reading a statement. Was weird… weirder than usual. All second person and stuff. Like he was addressing me personally, ‘cept, he wasn’t looking at me at all,” Basira explained.

“That’s a first,” Martin remarked. The look Basira shot him let him know he was not exactly appreciated in his efforts to lighten the mood.

“I sat down and listened to him talking—statement was about some doctor or another, unsafe medical practices, gaslighting… he was really absorbed in the reading.”

Martin ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Jon got like this sometimes, Martin knew from experience. He’d start reciting a statement and forget everything around him. “Well, standing around isn’t going to help.”

“No, it isn’t,” Basira said. “You head down that direction, and I’ll check this way.” 

“You really think splitting up is a good idea?” 

“What else have we got?”

“Right,” Martin nodded. ”Uh, try not to… open too many doors?”

“Yeah, I got that, thanks,” Basira countered.

“Well. Have to start somewhere, I suppose,” Martin sighed, and after a bit of hesitation Basira was on her way down the other end of the hallway.

“Jon?"

Martin’s voice echoed through the sterile hallways, the distorted music-box music backing the calls of his boyfriend’s name. Martin hated it here. Hate might actually be an understatement to the visceral contempt he felt as he stalked through the flickering multicolored lights, his beat-up converse squeaking on the over-polished linoleum floors. 

“Jon!” 

He tried, a bit louder.

Martin hoped Jon hadn’t wandered (unwillingly or otherwise) into one of the Spiral’s hallways. It felt like an eternity ago now, but when Tim and him had gotten stuck in them it had been one of the worst experiences his job had offered him. And that included being complicit in ending the world.

Yet here Martin was, opening doors cautiously, ducking down dark hallways, the light and music and general demeanor of this awful place making his head hurt. He was going to throttle Jon when he found him, if Basira didn’t beat him to it first. Find Jon, find Basira, get the hell out of here, that was all he wanted. 

“Who cares about my wants anymore,” Martin mumbled to himself, pushing an unmarked green door open, he found himself in a small, rather banal-looking exam room. Tired, Martin pulled himself up onto the exam table and all but collapsed onto the uncomfortable padding of it. He had no idea where his boyfriend was, but he could worry about it again after he quieted the pounding in his skull. 

Suddenly, a knock on the door. Martin sat bolt upright. Surely that wasn’t his door…?

The doorknob turned. That was definitely on his door. Martin’s eyes darted around the tiny exam room, for something, anything at all to defend himself, but all the counters were empty and the doorknob was turning turning turning opening—

“Alright, and what do we have here?”

“Jon!”

Martin felt relief wash over him. He couldn’t believe his luck, he’d chosen a random room to lay down in and Jon had found him. 

“Where have you been? Basira said she lost you,” Martin said, the relief at seeing Jon leaving him and quickly making way for frustration. “What are you doing wandering off like that?” 

“Come now,” Jon said, not looking up from the clipboard he was carrying. It was only then that Martin noticed Jon’s outfit: a lab coat thrown over his usual combo of plaid button-up and sweater, and his curly hair pulled into a ponytail. “I can hardly ‘wander off’ at my own place of employment”

“Place of—“ 

Then he remembers what Basira had said about Jon being absorbed in this particular statement. 

“Oh for god’s sake, Jon, let's go, Basira's waiting and I don’t want to be here any longer than we already have,” Martin said.

“Are you confused again? That isn’t my name. I’m Doctor David, and we’ve been over this quite enough times now, haven’t we? I don’t like to get in the habit of repeating myself.” Jon sighs dramatically. “Please don’t make me call the orderlies this early,” he places the clipboard down on one of the counters, and as he moves around the room Martin just stares, transfixed. 

“Jon, honestly—“ 

“Do you enjoy this?” Jon says, turning to face Martin. “Is it entertaining for you to pull this same song and dance every single time I come in to check up on you? Hm?”

“I don’t have time for this, I'm going to find Basira,” Martin throws his hands up angrily, trying to push past Jon and make for the door. His hand is a few centimeters away from the doorknob when Jon’s sudden, firm, icy grip on Martin’s other wrist stops him.

“At the risk of sounding cliché,” Jon says, narrowing his eyes. “I really would not do that if I were you.” 

And then he pulls Martin to himself, catches his other wrist, and presses Martin’s back against the exam table. Martin all but trips over his own feet in surprise, which may have given Jon some more leverage with which to tug him around. Jon is so much smaller than Martin, but the sudden action has Martin frozen, staring down at Jon’s dark eyes, lips slightly parted.

“You’re not being a very good patient,” says Jon, expression unreadable. “What's to be done about that?”

Martin swallows, finally fixing the jaw he had left hanging agape. “I…” he tries, stupidly. They really don’t have time for this. They _really_ don’t have time for this. It’s not just them this time either, it’s Basira, and they’re meant to be looking for Daisy, but Jon is…

Jon is pressed against Martin, his small hands still firmly on Martin’s wrists— so small that his fingers don’t touch around them— and the exam table that is cushioned but not actually _that_ cushioned is digging into Martin’s lower back and Jon is--

“You could at least give me an answer. Or are you too far gone to even manage that?” 

Oh, god.

“What treatment do you propose?” If they’re going to keep walking through hellscape after hellscape, if they’re going to be forced to watch their friends shoot one another, if the world is going to end…

Then by god Martin deserves to enjoy his very monster-y boyfriend dominating the hell out of him. 

Jon smirks. “I think you can answer that question yourself,” and a skinny leg presses up between Martin’s thighs. “Can’t you?” 

Martin huffs and turns away. He’s half-hard, because it… it has been a while since they’ve done this, even had the time to _consider_ doing this, and Martin is dating his long-term crush and he didn’t just fall for Jon back when he was mean to him for no reason so, yes, he’s half-hard in his beat-up trousers because he is maybe the slightest bit into being talked down to. 

“Refresh me, doctor,” Martin bites, his teeth gritted, his glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose from how he’s suddenly much too hot for his big parka and sweater. This is not a good idea by any means. 

Jon’s eyes narrow. “Lay down on the table for me. I assume you’re still capable of following basic directions, aren’t you?” 

Martin is half tempted to refuse, just to see how Jon will respond, but time does happen to be of the essence at the current moment, so Martin pulls himself up onto the cold, barely cushioned exam table, and sits with his legs hanging off the side. 

“Mm,” Jon hums, staring at Martin blankly. “Seems I overestimated you.” The small surface is barely big enough for Martin, but Jon still hoists himself on the table next to him. “I believe I said,” he pushes a firm hand on Martin’s shoulder, urging him backwards. “Lay _down_.” 

Martin’s head hits the cushion, and Jon looms over him, and Martin feels his cock twitch in his pants, because he doesn’t know how many times he’s imagined himself in this position over the years. 

They’ve discussed it before. Martin remembered it clearly because Jon had gone beautifully, almost comically red at the confession, and Martin had made sure he would never forget the image for as long as he lived. Despite Martin’s insistence that it's something he is very into, Jon still can’t seem to fully be alright with how awful he used to treat Martin back when he was first promoted to Head Archivist. 

_“I.. I mean, you really…” Jon had stammered whilst sat in Martin’s lap on the couch. “You enjoyed it when I…”_

_Under him, Martin laughed and Jon felt the vibrations through his whole body. “I… don’t really think it’s that weird? But I get it if it's not something you particularly want to recreate.”_

_“I didn’t say that, I just. I don’t know if I…”_

_“Here,” Martin shifted a bit, moving Jon along with him. Sat across from each other on the couch in the tiny cabin they’d occupied for those few blissful weeks, Martin took a breath. “You like watching me, right?”_

_Jon nodded, slowly._

_“How about… you talk down to me, and I’ll see if I can come from just your voice and your words alone? Does that sound okay?” Martin asked, conversationally._

_Jon squeaked. Actually, seriously squeaked, and buried his burning face in his hands._

_“Oh,” Martin smiled, moving closer and letting Jon hide his face in Martin’s chest instead. Asked “sorry, too much?” and felt Jon nod against him._

“Comfortable?” asked the Jon currently straddling Martin’s hips on the medical room exam table. Martin shifted, trying to get even a little bit comfortable, but it didn’t seem like these tables were exactly made for someone of his size, and certainly not for two people at once. 

“Not… exactly.” Martin complained. 

Jon smiled down at him. “Well. We all have to make sacrifices, don’t we?” For instance, I’m sacrificing my precious time to treat you. I do so wish you would be open to other types of care, but,” He pressed a hand to Martin’s crotch again and the man under him hissed. “You do respond rather well to it, don’t you?” 

“Maybe the rest of your methods are just ineffective because you’re a lousy doctor,” Martin grinned back. “Have you considered that angle?” 

Jon’s smile dropped from his face with all the grace of an airplane taking a nosedive. It did give Martin some small satisfaction, he will admit. Now that his boyfriend knew anything and everything, including people’s innermost thoughts, Martin did take some joy in surprising him.

Alright, maybe a bit more than just some joy.

Situated on top of Martin, Jon did look more ominous than usual. And he really was very ominous these days, so that truly was saying something. “Complain all you want, Mister Blackwood,” Jon said as he properly leaned himself over Martin, his hands bracketing either side of Martin’s head. “I know how desperate you are for any sort of stimulation. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly the touchy-feely type, is he?” 

At that, Martin felt actual anger surge through him for the first time since stepping into this awful place. “I respect Jon’s boundaries, and he does the same for me. Doing something he isn’t okay with is off the table,” Martin stated, plainly. “We are very happy, thank you,” he tacked on for good measure. 

“Oh, really, well,” Jon shifted on top of him. “What do you call this, then? Getting all tight in your trousers when another man so much as takes a stern tone with you?”

“That’s not--”

“Not true? Hm,” to prove his point, Jon slid down slightly to sit on Martin’s thighs, and worked his belt buckle open. “The sooner you stop denying it, the better this will feel, the faster we can both leave here satisfied, alright?” 

Martin opened his mouth to retort the comment, but Jon had chosen that very moment to free Martin’s own cock from his briefs, so the reply would have to wait. “Oh dear,” he tutted, pressing his thumb into the head of Martin’s cock. “You’re leaking already!”

Underneath him, Martin shut his eyes and groaned despite himself. The remark about Jon had seemed to cross a line, and Martin knew he should be putting a stop to this. Jon wasn’t in his right mind, wasn’t acting like he normally would. The sensible, responsible, adult thing to do would be to push his boyfriend off of him, stuff his dick back into his pants, and go and find their mutual friend and try and puzzle out a way out of here.

All of this was running through Martin’s very hazy mind as he watched Jon lift himself onto his knees to pull his trousers off, followed by his underwear, and oh, Jon was wet between his thighs and the voice begging Martin to listen to reason got just a bit quieter. 

“It really isn’t polite to stare,” Jon spoke. “But then again, you’re not exactly well-versed in societal norms, are you? You need to be told what’s right and wrong.” 

Martin swallowed. His tongue felt like sandpaper and the heat pooling in his stomach was spreading to his chest as Jon positioned himself over Martin’s cock and brought it to line up with his cunt. 

“Jon--”

“That still isn’t my name.”

Martin swallowed thickly. “Doctor D-David.”

“There you are! Ready to give it up? Your treatment will go much much smoother if you cooperate as you’re meant to, you know.” 

Martin nodded subconsciously as he watched Jon sink down onto him. Jon, with his turtleneck pulled up past his belly button, displaying his midriff and dark happy trail, lowering himself further and further down onto Martin until they were flush together. Then, Jon began to move. 

“Oh, god,” Martin whined, hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder. This was wrong, right? This wasn’t what he should be doing. But it really had been so long and even though Martin was so very happy with him and Jon’s current sex life the wish fulfillment that came with Jon taking that firm tone with him is so very overwhelming and he can apologize later. He will surely apologize later. 

“See? Isn’t that better?” Jon said. “Take your medicine, now, Mister Blackwood. We’ll fix you right up and make sure you’re no longer such a burden to your poor boyfriend.”

“M’not,” Martin tried, unconvincingly. 

“What did we say about denial?” Jon all but sing-songed. “It’s very unbecoming. You’re never thinking about anything other than when your next lay will be, are you?”

“Stop,” Martin gasped. “Stop talking.” 

“That would defeat the point of the treatment,” Jon replied simply. “There needn't be any secrets between the two of us, Mister Blackwood. Unlike you and your boyfriend.”

“You’re w-wrong.”

“I’m not, though, am I? He only pretends not to know. How can he _not_ though, your mind is always on it, always pondering the next most convenient time you can get him alone to fuck him.”

“Be quiet, be quiet, you don’t know anything, it isn’t like that, I wouldn’t ever, _oh christ--”_

Martin felt dizzy. The juxtaposition of disagreeing with everything he was being told and the pleasure encapsulating every part of his body was giving him whiplash. He _knew_ Jon was alright with their relationship, both of them were, they’d talked about it extensively on more than one occasion. It was just normal-- healthy, even, to allow your thoughts to drift to being more intimate with your partner, and he completely believed that Jon wasn’t reading his thoughts. He trusted Jon. 

“If you really respected him, you would have stopped this ages ago.” Came Jon’s voice from above him. 

“Don’t--” Martin sneered. “Get out of my head.”

“Suit yourself.”

Martin hated how good this felt. It was just this place playing on his insecurities and making him unable to think clearly. Jon had always been willing and open to hearing and experimenting with Martin’s fantasies, even if he didn’t completely understand them himself. 

Penetration had been a big step for both of them, but Jon had wanted to try it, and after much reassuring, Martin had agreed. They’d gone slow-- or, well, attempted to-- after taking longer than usual to prepare and make sure Jon wasn’t going to get hurt, Martin had been thoroughly worked up. And, well, he may have finished from just pushing halfway into Jon. There had been much consoling and awkward laughter that night, and Martin had sworn to do Jon properly one day. 

He didn’t think that today would be that day. Martin groaned again, both from pleasure and his awful luck.

Trying to make himself feel slightly better about the whole situation, Martin brought a hand up to rub at Jon’s clit, but was swiftly swatted away. 

“This isn’t about me,” he was reminded by Jon, who was beginning to sound a bit out of breath himself. “I’m perfectly alright. Sound mind and all that. _You’re_ the one who needs treatment here. Hand at your sides, if you please.”

“Okay,” Martin nodded, inhibitions dissolving by the minute. He chanced a peek, lifting his elbow off his face, and nearly choked at the sight. Jon was all mussed-up hair and flushed cheeks, his white lab coat falling further off his shoulders with every renewed movement down onto Martin’s cock. 

“ _Fuck,”_ Martin whined, deciding that covering his face was definitely the better option. “Christ, Jon.”

“Language,” Jon chided. “Averting your eyes won’t make the guilt go away. You’re just running from your problems, like always.”

 _‘Shut up,’_ Martin wanted to reply, but knew it’d just get him reprimanded again, and stayed silent aside from the pathetic whimpers and whines escaping his lips. He just wanted to finish, to get Jon back to normal, to get out of this horrible place. 

He forced his eyes back open, forced himself to look at his boyfriend, the way Martin’s cock filled his cunt, the way he took all of Martin again and again, and how piercing his gaze was when Martin finally met his eyes.

“Go ahead.” Jon said, leaning back and supporting himself with two hands on Martin’s thighs. “You’ll feel better.”

The sight was too much. Martin came with a strangled noise that quickly devolved into a string of _please_ , and _Jon_ , and _oh god_. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jon mused, his own eyes fluttering back from the feeling of being filled up. “T-There we are. A bit f-faster than usual, but at least you were able to, right?” he panted, trying to maintain his composure. 

When Martin came back to his mind, Jon was still on him, watching. Martin knew Jon hadn't finished himself, but the fact was he had just come inside him and-- oh god, Martin had finished inside him. Martin knew Jon had had a hysterectomy earlier in his life, but still. They hadn’t discussed if Jon was okay with that prior to this-- well, they hadn’t discussed any of this because they shouldn’t actually be doing it-- but, oh, that was definitely something you talk about beforehand, right? 

“Are you okay?” Martin asked as Jon pulled himself out and off of Martin’s lap slowly. He was groggy and fucked-out as he forced himself to sit up, concern replacing the pleasure. “I didn’t mean to--”

“But you wanted to,” Jon immediately refuted, and Martin’s stomach dropped slightly. Jon was still in the statement. Martin’s eyes drifted down below Jon’s thighs and then immediately shot back up to the garish poster on the wall because some of Martin’s spend was leaking out of Jon and Martin really could not afford to let his thoughts get away from him again.

“No, I... I would never want to do anything you’re not okay with.” Martin shook his head, his hands on Jon’s arms, though he didn’t exactly know what he was trying to do. Keep Jon from leaving, maybe? He was sure as hell determined not to lose him again. 

“And, yet, you did. What does that say about you, I wonder?”

“Jon,” Martin said sternly. “I really, really need you to get out of your statement trance and come with me to find Basira. We’ve already been here much too long.”

“Tell me, how does it feel lying to yourself constantly about what you really want?”

“Would you just--”

Without much prior thought to the action or how it would contradict everything Martin was currently trying to accomplish, he grabbed Jon by the coat and pulled him back to lay flat on the table. Jon made a slight sound at being manhandled, but was otherwise the most silent he’d been since they began. 

“You need to get out of this statement,” Martin stated, firmly. All his weight was on Jon, and Martin couldn't help but huff at the sight-- and then mentally slapped himself. Focus. “It isn’t good for me or for you,” he said, half to himself.

“I’m your doctor,” Jon said, though the snarky intonation that had been there a few moments ago had lifted slightly. “How could I possibly make you feel worse?”

Martin stared down at him. Here, Jon wasn’t going anywhere. Martin had slapped Jon to get him out of statements before. The physical sensation seemed to work to ground him. 

“You’ve never had a penchant for violence before,” Jon mused. “How long has this been going on?”

“It’s not… I’m not going to hurt you.”

This was for Jon’s own good, so it was alright, right? Oh god, that sounded fucking terrible. Martin was absolutely terrible. 

But, maybe if he just...

“What are you doing,” Jon asked, his eyes following Martin’s hand as it trailed down his body, over his chest, his stomach, and came to rest on his thigh. Martin’s eyes flicked up to meet Jon’s. 

“I promise this is going to help, you’ll thank me later.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Jon said, only slightly out of breath. His demeanor had begun to melt away, which Martin decided to take as a good sign. If they just kept going like this, then maybe Jon would come to his senses. “You don’t seriously think--” Jon’s tongue darted out over his parted lips, his eyes locked on Martin.

“What don’t I think?” Martin retorted, inching his hand closer to Jon’s cunt. 

“You wouldn’t actually...” ... _would you?_

“Sorry, Jon.” Martin remarked, and then brought a thumb to rub at Jon’s clit. The man under him reacted instantly, his muscles tensing and his back arching off the exam table. 

“ _Ah--_ ” 

“What was that?”

“I… it’s…” Jon stammered. “You c-can’t--”

“I actually think maybe I can,” Martin replied. “It’s for your own good, Jon.” 

“You…” God, Jon was pretty when he was under Martin. Squirming, unsure whether to get away or come closer, all completely futile: Martin was practically double his body weight. 

“You just took my cock. You can take three fingers, can’t you?” 

Jon made a vulnerable sound underneath Martin. Pressing a hand to Jon’s chest, Martin held him in place while he slipped his fingers inside. Jon was loose, wet with Martin’s spend and his own slick, and Martin got his fingers inside him easily. 

“Good, good, there you go,” Martin mumbled, focused on the expression Jon was making. His face was scrunched up, and he was trying not to make a sound and risk breaking character. Unfortunately, having Jon break character was exactly what Martin was going for.

Martin chanced a kiss to Jon’s warm forehead. “You’re handling it very well, Jon,” he said against his skin. “I know you can do this.” 

“I don’t,” Jon took in a shaky breath. “This is very u-uncouth…” 

Martin brought his fingers to pinch at Jon’s clit, resulting in him swallowing down whatever retort he was about to make next, and eliciting a particularly unprofessional sound from his lips instead. 

“There you are, good boy,” Martin murmured, pressing into Jon’s clit the way Martin knew he liked best. “Good boy, Jon, come on…”

Jon shut his eyes tight, attempting to bring a hand up to cover his face, but Martin stopped him. “Hey, hey no. Look at me, look at me, Jon.”

“I’m not sure that I…”

“It feels good, right?”

“...Yes.”

“Just look at me and focus on the feeling, okay? Can you do that?”

“Yes, I think so…”

“You can do this, I’ve got you. You’re so good Jon, aren’t you?”

“Mmhm.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Martin…”

Martin’s face immediately brightened. “Yes, good! Good, Jon. I’m right here.”

“Martin,” Jon gasped. “Martin, Martin, _Martin, oh--”_

Martin stilled his movement. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Jon replied quickly, and to Martin's surprise, moved his own hand over Martin’s, pressing him back to his cunt. “It feels good.. and I.. I’m close, oh god, Martin--”

“Yeah, o-okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

Jon nodded with a dazed smile. “You’re here,” he repeated, and wrapped his arms around Martin’s back, pulling him closer to him.

Martin shifted, adjusting his hand. “Yes, I am. Love you so much, Jon.” 

“L-Love you, too, Martin, ah…”

A few more strokes to Jon’s clit and he was shaking apart under Martin’s hand, clenching around the fingers still inside his cunt. Martin kept his hand in place, let Jon hump it through his orgasm, tiny sounds leaving his throat as he worked himself through. 

“Are you alright?” Martin asked when Jon finally pulled off, breathing heavily on the exam table. 

“I think so,” Jon replied through breaths. “Haven’t, uh, done that in a while.”

“God, Jon, I am so sorry,” Martin began, feeling his chest tighten. “I shouldn’t have let you do that, that wasn’t okay like, at all, and I’m really--”

“It’s alright, Martin.”

“It isn’t! It’s so not okay and I should know better than to- when you don’t even usually want-”

“Martin, Martin,” Jon shushed, sitting up and cupping Martin’s face with small, warm hands. “I’m sorry I made you do that, it isn’t your fault in the slightest.”

“It’s not your fault, either, though,” Martin replied. “God, Jon, I…”

“We’re both alright, right?” Jon asked, turning Martin’s face to look at him. “Martin, right?”

“Well, yes, for the most part. Physically, at least.”

Jon scoffed. “Yes, physically,” he sighed, still tired, but his expression wasn’t pained. “And the other parts we can deal with… later. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Martin agreed. “Yeah, for right now we need to get out of here. Like, right away.”

“Well. After we, uhm, put our trousers back on, maybe?

“Oh. Right, that would be wise.” 

They pulled on the clothes they had shed in mostly silence. The constant drone of music box tunes still present in the background. Martin had the thought that he may have hated this place more than any other domain they’d been through. The way he made him and Jon hurt one another, made it so neither of them felt good about what they’d done, despite the reassurances from both sides that it’d been alright. 

Martin knew it hadn’t. He was mad at himself for allowing the Spiral to twist his desires, and he knew full well that he could have very easily found another way to snap Jon out of his statement reading. But they would talk about it, he assured himself. They’d both apologize. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Jon asked, his hand on the doorknob. “We can stay and talk about it, if you’d like to.” 

“No,” Martin replied a bit too quickly. “No, right now all I want to do is get the hell out of here. We’ll have time to talk later. Sorry, again.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Jon said, and offered a small smile when he reached out his hand. Martin took it, managing an even smaller smile back, and then they stepped out into the hall. 

They’d figure it out. No couple was perfect, and dating the man who ended the world was bound to come with some consequences and... nontraditional challenges. 

Martin took a deep breath, squeezed Jon’s hand, and let him lead the way. 

**Author's Note:**

> *doctor david voice* and thats how i lost my medical license!
> 
> title from the dismemberment song by blue kid
> 
> comments are appreciated! i hope you enjoyed, and thank u for reading :>


End file.
